


How It's Meant to Be

by tylerscreamingintothevoid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Draco and Harry are background characters, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Gay Bar, Headcanon, Love, M/M, Romance, Slow Romance, so fucking gay, they do fuck all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 05:36:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16011362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tylerscreamingintothevoid/pseuds/tylerscreamingintothevoid
Summary: Marcus had had his suspicions about Oliver before but never had he really thought about it as in-depth as he did now."You okay dude? You're gonna break the cover of that thing,” said Marcus as he raised an eyebrow at him.Oliver glanced up. "No, only it's just,” he trailed off as his gaze darted around the shop, noting how it wasn't busy at all. "It's just- well, maybe it's not a rumour, I guess. I-I mean, I wasn't actually... but like, I am..."He made some abstract hand gesture as his cheeks turned beet red. Marcus stared at him before he widened his eyes and nodded. "Ah. You sure you wanna tell me that here?""Right. Forget about it," he mumbled, "I'll just see you at next practice-""No, no." Marcus hummed. "Wanna go out tonight?"





	1. Chapter 1

"Did you hear what they're saying about the Gryffindor team leader?"

Marcus perked up at the comment made about his rival. One of the newer recruits for the rugby team had said it, the blonde first year. Rich family. Flint had hated signing him up, the prick. But getting new jerseys was good at least.

But his train of thought was now just getting derailed. A rumour about _Oliver Wood_ was going around?

Marcus huffed and looked up from where he had been scuffing dirt off his shoes. "What about him?"

He had worked his ass off for those trainers, no way was he letting the pitch ruin them. The blonde boy crossed his arms and looked over. "Nothing captain. Nothing except that people're saying he's gay."

Marcus paused, surprised, before resuming his cleaning. "Huh. Why are people saying that? And more importantly, why do you give a shit? "

"Apparently someone saw him snogging a fella in town," said the blonde with a shrug.

"Yeah yeah, well maybe if you focused less on gossip you'd be better on the pitch."

Marcus rolled his eyes and then made a mental reminder to ask Oliver about it next time he saw it. He didn't care much either way, but it was better to let him know what was going around.

The Slytherin changing rooms were one door away from the Gryffindors', so when he left he glanced through to see if Oliver had left yet. He was nowhere to be seen, so Flint just shrugged and went off on his own.

He pushed the thought away from his mind, instead focusing on what he would eat that night. He didn't think there was anything at home, and if there was his dad had probably eaten it by now. He decided it would probably be best to just pick up something in the deli near where he lived, he had made some extra cash tutoring anyway.

It was an hour or so after practice when he'd gotten there and he pushed the door open. A jingle sounded as he went in and Marcus went up to the counter, currently being manned by a short, familiar looking brown haired boy. "Hey, can I help y-"

Oliver Wood went pink and glanced away. His fingers tangled in the apron he had on and he finally met Marcus’ gaze again. "Oh, aye, Flint. Ehm, what can I get you?"

Marcus greeted him and then ordered his dinner, handing Oliver his money before leaning forward a little as he waited for his change, tediously putting his elbow on the counter. "People are talking about you, Wood. Just a heads up, in case anyone says shit to you."

Oliver furrowed his brow and dropped the change by Marcus' elbow. "Eh?"

"Rumours going around, man, apparently you snogged some bloke in town and someone saw."

Oliver scoffed and shook his head. "Bollocks. I didn't do naught of the sort."

"That little first-year kid seemed pretty sure, dude."

"First-year kid must've pulled it out of 'is arse."

Marcus shrugged. "Maybe. Don't get why it's such a big deal though, I've got a gay uncle and it's not really that different."

Oliver went to fiddle with something behind the counter, slightly rearranging what was on display.

"He and my dad don't talk anymore, but that's more because my dad is a useless piece of shit than it is because my uncle's married to a bloke."

Marcus shrugged. "Doesn't make a difference to me."

"Right, right."

Marcus had had his suspicions about Oliver before but never had he really thought about it as in-depth as he did now.

"You okay dude? You're gonna break the cover of that thing,” said Marcus as he raised an eyebrow at him.

Oliver glanced up. "No, only it's just,” he trailed off as his gaze darted around the shop, noting how it wasn't busy at all. "It's just- well, maybe it's not a rumour, I guess. I-I mean, I wasn't actually... but like, I am..."

He made some abstract hand gesture as his cheeks turned beet red. Marcus stared at him before he widened his eyes and nodded. "Ah. You sure you wanna tell me that here?"

"Right. Forget about it," he mumbled, "I'll just see you at next practice-"

"No, no." Marcus hummed. "Wanna go out tonight? We could probably find someplace to drink. Looks like you need it."

"Us?" Oliver chuckled, cheeks finally calming down. "Go out for drinks? Mate, we've never even proper hung out before."

"If you don't want to, then just-"

Marcus was only trying to be nice, for fuck sake.

"No, I'd like to."

"Cool. I can meet you at yours?"

"At- at mine? Why mine?"

Marcus thought about how messy his place was, how cramped and stuffy the trailer was. His dad was probably asleep on the couch, curled up with a beer already. "Closer to town, mate."

"Cool. Uh, can I text you the address?"

Marcus nodded and grabbed a napkin, leaning forward more to steal the pen from Oliver's chest pocket, hand brushing against him. "Sure."

Oliver rolled his eyes and took back the napkin and the pen after Marcus had finished with them. "Thanks, Flint."

"See you later?"

"Grand," said Oliver with a grin.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Marcus hadn't had time to do laundry, so when he knocked on Oliver's door he was wearing two-day old jeans, and a worn t-shirt with a hoodie over it. Hardly the best he ever looked, but that wouldn't matter. He rubbed his hands together and breathed into them as he waited on the front doorstep of the man's house, before checking his phone.

_Come out, you git_   
_Oh wait, you already did lol_

He heard a few locks click open behind the door and Oliver peeked out from behind it. He smiled as he pulled it fully open. He was wearing a white polo shirt and slim grey jeans, phone neatly stuffed in his pocket and wallet stuffed in the other.

"Less of a gobshite without the rugby gear on, I see," Marcus smirked and shoved his hands in his pockets.

The brunette chuckled and went outside, locking the door behind him. "Same goes for you, eh? So, where are you taking me tonight?"

Marcus pulled out his phone and then grinned. "Does it matter?"

Fifteen minutes later found them at the door of one of the town's many bars, but Oliver was caught by surprise by the clientele, most of whom were gay men. Oliver scratched at his arm and took a step back. "Marcus, what's this?"

"It's a gay bar, dude." Marcus shrugged. "My uncle recommended it, said it wasn't as gross as some of the others. Figured you'd never been to one before."

"You asked your uncle..." Oliver shook his head. "No, I've never..."

"Are you gonna finish any sentences tonight, or will I have to live in suspense?"

The brunette scowled. "Nope, I've never been to one. And you asked your uncle about-about gay stuff? Gay bar?"

"Well, it's not like I could google it, dude."

"Right. Right, grand. I dunno if we should go in though."

"Why the fuck not, Wood? Maybe you'd be able to get laid."

Oliver scoffed. "I could get laid if I wanted."

Marcus snorted. "Sure. Time to get that stick out of your ass and replace it with a-"

" _Enough_."

Marcus laughed and then shrugged. "If anyone sees you here, they won't say shit because they'd be here too."

Oliver sighed and put his hands behind his head. He was seriously about to go into a gay bar for the first time. Maybe even snog someone, maybe more. "Lead me in, mate."

Marcus nodded and started walking, grinning at the bouncer and ducking around him to pull Oliver inside. The music was pretty good, and the place was a selection of hot guys. Marcus included if Oliver was being honest. He curtly greeted some of the lads his own age. However, regardless of his looks, his shy and polite demeanor was getting him nowhere. "Let's just grab some drinks," he said, starting to get slightly frustrated at how little luck he was having.

Marcus led him to the bar, ordering them both drinks. "You need to relax, dude! That guy over there is totally checking _you_ out, though."

Oliver shot a look in that direction. The guy looked a little older, sure, but he was handsome. A little rough around the edges, but Oliver didn't mind that. He sort of liked it. "He's probably checking you out."

"Pfft, nah." Marcus took a drink of his pint. "You should go talk to him, mate."

Oliver sipped his too. "I should?"

He looked over again. The guy was smiling, biting his lip. Marcus nodded and then turned him slightly, pushing him towards the man gently. Oliver held his drink close to him as he slid into the seat next to the man. "Hey."

"Hey," said the man. He had tanned skin and was certainly rough looking. If Oliver squinted, the dude almost looked like an older Marcus. "I saw you from over there and… well, you with anyone, mate?"

Oliver took a drink and then bit his lip. "Came with someone, but I'm here now."

The man chuckled. "I'm glad. Derek," he said, offering his hand, "and you are?"

"Oliver!" He took his hand, smiling nervously.

"You come here often, Ollie?"

"First time, actually. I like it, though."

Derek sipped his drink and nodded. "The scene suits you. So does that polo."

"Really? Th-thanks."

"No bother, sweetheart."

After a few more drinks and maybe an hour of chatting, Oliver was verging on tipsy. He was, however, making sure he didn't go too far with the beers. Derek hadn't drunk half as much as he had, and now he grinned and leaned in. "You feeling okay love?"

Oliver felt his breath on his face and he leaned backward. "I'm fine, you?"

"Yeah, I'm good." Derek rested his hand on Oliver's thigh. "You maybe want to get out of here? I reckon you could use a breather. Or I could get you another drink."

  
Oliver swallowed and then frowned. "I'm not sure..."

Derek chewed on his lip, "Go ahead, love, I can order another pint for you and all."

"I should probably get going..."

  
"I can drive you if you like."

"I walked here, it's fine!" Oliver’s tone had peaked slightly, panic flooding into his unique speech pattern.

Derek chuckled. "Still. It's not a bother on me. I don't mind."

"I think I'm just gonna go." Oliver started to pull away.

"Hey, hey," grumbled Derek, squeezing Oliver's thigh to keep him sitting down, "don't go."

Oliver frowned and then tried to pull away again. "Let go of me."

Derek shook his head but let go. "I thought we were having a good time. Come on, stay, I can get you a few more drinks, we can take it slower. I'm sorry for being pushy, love." In hindsight, it was definitely the alcohol, but at the time Oliver felt a slight pang of guilt in his chest. "Stay, yeah?"

"I think he told you to back off." Oliver felt a warm arm wrap around him and heard Marcus's voice. "So back off."

Derek squinted. "Sorry, we were just having a good time, who the fuck are you?"

Oliver started to redden and he looked behind him to look at Marcus properly. Marcus looked pissed, and he pulled Oliver closer. "I'm his boyfriend, who the fuck are you?"

Oliver looked back at Derek, who furrowed his brow. "I'm the lad he's been leading on all night."

Boyfriend?

"You've been getting him drunk, asshole. Come on Ollie, I'm taking you home."

Oliver nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, thanks.” Derek scoffed and brushed past the two of them into the crowd. Oliver didn't want to pull out of Marcus' grip, but he felt he had to. "So you're my boyfriend now?"

Marcus huffed. "Are you okay?" He sounded pretty concerned.

"Thanks. Thank you for getting me out of that. Yeah, I'm- I'm okay. Can we go?"

Marcus nodded, keeping a grip on Oliver's arm as they got outside. "Sorry about that."

Oliver stumbled slightly and groaned. "Mate, I'm starting to feel sick. Wait, sorry for what?"

"That you got in that situation, man. You gonna vomit?"

"Oh. Yeah, you got me out though." Oliver held his chest and grumbled. "And I think I might..."

Marcus tugged him into an alley, dimly lit by orange street lights. "Go ahead, man."

Oliver held onto the wall for balance before he bent over, closing his eyes and throwing up into a nearby bin. He coughed up the last of it and lifted his shirt to wipe his mouth clean. "God..."

Marcus patted him on the back. "Let's get you home, champ."

Oliver reached down to his pocket to grab his phone, only to find an empty pocket. "What-" He checked his other pocket. Empty too, missing his wallet. "Shite, that fucker must've nicked my things."

Marcus frowned. "Shit, really?"

"Yeah. Christ. It's- it's fine, I'll uh, I'll deal with it t-tomorrow I guess." Oliver shook his head. "Can you get me home?"

Marcus nodded and let him lean on him. "Yeah, of course, dude. You sure you're okay?"

"I guess."

Oliver wrapped his arm around Marcus' firm chest. He was so small against the man, and even though he had the build of a rugby player he almost looked skinny compared to Flint. Marcus walked him home, stopping by the front door. "I'll walk home, man."

"No, no, stay the night."

Oliver fumbled to unlock the door, then pushed it open. "Mam and dad are both gone for the week, they won't care."

"You want me to stay the night?"

"I mean, it's late. I don't mind, I guess."

Marcus huffed. "I... I'll sleep on the couch, man."

That was how Marcus Flint ended up sleeping in the Wood household's living room, his hoodie and jeans laying discarded on the coffee table as he'd curled up with a pillow pressed to his chest. Oliver had passed out soon after collapsing onto his bed, sleeping well after the night he'd spent with his 'rival'.

It wasn't how Marcus had seen the night going, but it definitely wasn't bad. He felt a little guilty for not going to check on his dad, but Oliver's couch was a lot comfier than his old spring box bed.

It was the best night's sleep he'd had in a while.

* * * * * * * *

Oliver vaguely remembered why Marcus Flint was lying face down on his couch in the front room of the Wood household, yet he was at a loss as to why he wasn't kicking him out. He was Marcus Flint, captain of the rival rugby team at school. Did last night's events make them... friends now?

The brunette set about boiling the kettle, dressed in his red tartan pyjama pants and loose beige sleeveless top. This was turning out to be a great start to his Saturday.

The morning got even better when a sleepy, rumpled Marcus Flint wandered into the kitchen, boxers snug on his ass and thighs and his hair fluffy from the pillow.

"Morning, Wood."

He snorted and then yawned, stretching with a low groan.

Oliver poured himself a cup of tea as he gave Marcus a once over. "Mornin'. Would'ya like a pair of tracksuit bottoms? Gotta be warmer."

"Sure, yeah." Marcus rubbed his face roughly, scratching at the slight stubble that was growing there. "How's your head?"

"Grand yeah. Not too bad."

Oliver sipped his tea, stirred it some more, then left it on the counter. "I'll fetch you some pants. Make yourself at home."

He never thought he'd be saying that to Flint, of all people. Marcus nodded and poured himself some tea, sweetening it and adding milk. Oliver eventually returned with a pair of soft grey tracksuit bottoms, laying them across the back of the couch for Marcus to take. He grabbed his tea and set it down on the counter, grabbing Marcus' jeans and hoodie. He quickly folded them and lay them on the armchair.

Marcus took the tracksuit bottoms and pulled them on, the fabric stretching around his thighs and falling just above his ankles. It was adorable, how short they were on him. Oliver chuckled. "Sorry, I might be a few sizes smaller than ya."

"S'fine." Marcus took a drink and then grinned at him. "You're a lightweight?"

"No! Well, not too much. I don't have much of a hangover, for how much I... remember that I drank."

Marcus nodded. "Yeah, must've gotten a little blurry towards the end."

"I remember up to my wallet and phone being stolen. You'd gotten me away from that creepy bloke."

Oliver went pink as he sat down, crossing his legs. "I remember you uh... said you were my boyfriend, to get me out of there."

Marcus paused, and then took another sip. "Figured it'd make him back off, y’know? Big scary boyfriend."

"Big scary boyfriend is right," chuckled Oliver. He sipped his tea again, looking a little nervous. "You won't tell anyone, right?"

"People should mock you ‘cause you’re shit at rugby, Wood. Not cause you're gay."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "M'not shit. You are. But yeah, don't let anyone know."

He couldn't take his eyes off the big tanned boy, who looked an awful lot softer and a lot more handsome than should be allowed. He knew what his father would say. Well, he knew the gist of what his father would say. Something along the lines of, Ollie, what's a scruffy looking thug like him doing here?

He sighed. "And my parents are gone till Friday."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "I'm not that much of an asshole, Wood. And huh, no babysitter?"

"Yeah, I guess. And I would get in trouble for having you over if they were here, man."

"Why? Not a fan of trailer trash?" Marcus hummed and picked at the flowers on the table. "Or just homophobic?"

"Trailer trash? I- no, no, they just don't like me having people that they don't know over. Trailer trash?"

"Nothin'." Marcus shrugged. "So you're alone all week? Sucks, man."

"Yeah, I guess. It means I can study in peace though."

Marcus nodded and finished his tea. "Probably want me out of your hair then, yeah?"

In all honesty, Oliver didn't want him out of his hair. The time he'd spent with Marcus in the past day or so had been amazing. But they were rivals- there was no reason for Oliver to ask Marcus to stay.

"You can take your time before going, but uhm, I mean, I guess. Like, I don't mind."

"Your friends probably wouldn't approve, they all think I'm some grunt."

Oliver hummed, looking left and right. "I don't really hang about with anyone on the team after school. Don't hang about with people much at all."

"Why not?" Marcus frowned and raised an eyebrow. Even he hung out with people after school sometimes.

"I dunno. Don't really like 'em. They're sorta boring, y'know. Good players, but a little..."

"Stuck up?" Marcus snorted. "Yeah."

Oliver's face fell a little. "Is that what y'think of me too?"

Marcus shot him a look, then scoffed lowly. "You're alright, Wood."

"You mean that yeah? Not just saying that to get another cuppa or anything from me?"

"Changed my mind, you are a git."

Oliver scoffed. "Seriously, though. And I don't think you're some grunt, so."

"You don't?"

"No." Oliver shook his head. "Nah. I sorta used to think you were, but I was way off the mark, mate."

"Why? Cause I'm such a delicate flower?" Marcus snorted.

"Shut it."

"So, why did you jump to boyfriend, and not just friend-friend?"

Marcus shrugged. "To get him to back off, dude. Seemed like the persistent type."

Oliver considered it for a moment. Then he decided it was best not to press on about it. "What'd you like for breakfast? We have eggs, I can make toast..."

Marcus bit his lip. "I should probably go, dude. My dad is at home, so."

"You sure?"

Oliver would have been lying if he said he wasn't disheartened.

"Yeah, dude. I'll see you in school, yeah?"

"See you Monday then," mumbled Oliver as he passed Marcus his clothes. He got the door and smiled at the bigger man. "You can keep the tracksuit and get it back to me then. I think some of my puke ended up staining your jeans last night."

Marcus snorted. "I had to do laundry anyway. See you around, Wood."

* * * * * * * *

_Hey._   
_It's Oliver, got a new phone, new number too._   
_Thanks for taking me out the other night!_

_Contact set to: M. FLINT_

* * * * * * * *


	2. Chapter 2

  
It wasn't that Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint were never seen together that confused the majority of the school. Rather, it was the lack of hostility. The pitch had gotten a lot less hectic, and games had gotten a lot softer. Flint even laid off of teasing the younger kids on the Gryffindor team.   
  
Needless to say, things were getting weird. Being on the rugby team with them was like being in the Twilight Zone.   
  
Even though it was only a few days since Marcus had taken Oliver to his first gay bar, people were starting to notice the lack of animosity between them.   
  
Adrian Pucey caught his friend by the shoulder, spinking against the wall as he got his attention. "Flint, you bastard. What's up?"   
  
Marcus rolled his eyes. "Don't you have anyone else to bother, Adrian?"   
  
"Oh, you know I don't."   
  
The kid wasn't skinny, or weak, but he was considerably less built than Flint. Bags hung low under his eyes and his raven hair flopped unceremoniously to one side of his brow. Marcus snorted and then messed his hair up on purpose. "Shame, really. Haven't been up to much, you?"   
  
"Sticking home. And meeting girls on the off chance they’re free," Adrian said with a snarky grin, nudging Marcus in his side, "you gotten lucky yourself?"   
  
"Nah, nah." Marcus shoved a book back into his locker and slammed it shut. "Rockin the dry spell, man. Been a bit preoccupied, honestly."   
  
" _Preoccupied_ ."   
  
The word rolled off of Pucey's tongue like poison.   
  
"Shit, dude, what's with the aggression? Chill out."   
  
"Too preoccupied to be texting your best mate? Dry spell my arse."   
  
In all honesty, Marcus enjoyed texting Oliver far more than he did Adrian. "Aww, feelin a bit jealous?" Marcus smirked. "I know you're in love with me, but try to control yourself."   
  
"You _wish_ I was in love with you, Flint."

"I don't have to, do I?" Marcus started walking. "I've just been busy, man, shit went down at home."

"Ah. Grand."  
  
At the time, Oliver had just pulled on his school shirt, buttoning it up as he left the changing rooms after practice. Percy was waiting diligently by the door, and Oliver smiled. "Aye."   
  
Percy raised an eyebrow. "Oh, _now_ he talks to me?"   
  
Oliver had been pretty busy hanging out with Marcus lately, and it seemed to have been more noticeable than he'd thought. The brunette shrugged and sprayed some deodorant under his shirt before giving his handsome grin again. "Sorry?"   
  
"You stopped answering texts, Wood!"   
  
"I've been- well, busy," he spluttered out, "I've had stuff going on!"   
  
"Stuff? More important stuff than your best friend?" Percy looked almost hurt.   
  
"No, just... well, family stuff. Don't pry, mate."   
  
Percy huffed. "Fine, whatever. How was practice?"   
  
"Good, did you see us?" Oliver bit his lip. "I was a pretty functional captain today, be proud."   
  
"Of course I saw it. The first years seem to really be listening to you."   
  
"Well... y'know... _infatuated_ , as always."   
  
"With you? You wish."   
  
Oliver raised an eyebrow. "I do."   
  
Marcus and Adrian were marching down that same hallway, almost passing without saying anything before Marcus gave a slight salute to the boys. Oliver grinned and waved back.   
  
Both Percy and Adrian were _dumbfounded_.

  
Adrian flipped Percy off, sticking his tongue out too.   
  
It didn't deter the two boys though, now that they were friends, and Marcus grinned at Oliver before dragging Adrian along. It wasn't like they were being best friends or anything. "You can flirt later, Pucey."   
  
Adrian scoffed. "Same to you, dipshit."   
  
Marcus snorted. "Dude, I'm not gay."   
  
"Neither am I, duh! We all know Wood's a fucking fag, though."   
  
"Hey, shut the fuck up." Marcus's voice lost it's joking quality, almost immediately. "Don't say that shit."   
  
Adrian paled. All he wanted, really, was Marcus' approval. "Don't say what shit?"   
  
"What he is is none of your business, and that's a shitty word. Got it?"   
  
The boy whimpered. "Wait, is he...?"   
  
"None of your business, Adrian." Marcus kept walking, taking out his phone and checking the time. "Will it stop you from playing rugby? No? Then shut up."   
  
Marcus when he wasn't joking around was pretty intimidating. Adrian had almost forgotten, since they were friends.   
  
Adrian nodded curtly. "Yes, Flint. Sorry. Sorry."   
  
"Whatever. Wanna grab food?" And, he was back. He cracked his knuckles and then shook his hand out. "There's a new shop down parkway."   
  
"If you want," mumbled Adrian.   
  
Percy scoffed as they went down the hallway. "So he's who you've been texting. You'd rather talk to Marcus Flint?"   
  
Oliver huffed. "Shut up, he's really nice when he's not... showing off to his friends."   
  
"When's he not showing off to his friends? I daresay it's all he does."   
  
"Shut up, he's nice to me." Oliver fussed with his hair and then tugged at the hem of his jumper sleeve. "He's not as bad as you think he is."   
  
"He's certainly not as good as you think he is. Here, it's all uneven," grumbled Percy as he straightened Oliver's collar.   
  
Oliver felt his face heat up and he pushed Percy's hands away. "You don't even know him, Perc."   
  
"And you think you do."   
  
"I know him better than you!"   
  
Percy rolled his eyes in that way that made Oliver's blood boil.

He gritted his teeth together. "What do you have against him?"

"He's a bully, Wood. He's aggressive, cruel. And he uses people. Gullible people like you."  
  
"He didn't use me for anything, and he's not a fucking bully."   
  
"You really are oblivious, huh. He's been bullying people since he got here, he's stayed back again and again, and-"   
  
"Shut up, Percy!" Oliver took a deep breath and then pulled him down a quieter hallway, dropping his voice a little. "He didn't bully me, okay? I was upset and I... I came out to him and he made me fucking feel better, he took me out to some stupid gay bar to make me feel good about myself and walked me home. That's it. It was a nice fucking thing to do."   
  
Percy blinked, then crossed his arms. His cheeks had reddened with the embarrassment, the tips of his ears turning a similar colour too. "You... came out to him, what do you... what are you saying, with this?"   
  
"I'm gay." It felt really good to tell someone else. "I'm gay, Percy, and only you and Marcus know."   
  
He paused and then huffed a laugh. "I suppose the whole school knows, but that’s only speculation."   
  
" _You're_ gay."   
  
Oliver nodded dumbly. "Is that a problem?"   
  
"No. Simply a surprise."   
  
Percy sighed. "I should have asked, I... I'm glad you told me. I'm sorry if you think... I suppose, I'm sorry that I think he's an ass."   
  
Oliver shrugged. "He thinks the same about you."   
  
"I'm not, though."   
  
"You have your moments." Oliver grinned.

* * * * * * * *

Marcus didn't have the most stellar attendance at the best of times, so Oliver didn't really notice when he missed a day in school. When he missed a match, though, that was pretty weird.

He wasn't answering his phone, either, so Oliver just ended up walking home after he changed out, feeling worried but unable to do anything about it.  
  
He usually showed up after a couple of days at most anyway, he was probably fine.   
  
Therefore, it was a shock to his system when the man showed up on his doorstep later that night, looking like he'd gone a few rounds in the ring.   
  
His eye was darkened and looked painful, his nose turned in such a way that Oliver was worried it might have been broken. There was a gash on his cheek too, and he looked to be in quite a lot of pain. Oliver paled immediately and held the door wide open for him. "Flint? Mate, what the bloody hell happened to you?"   
  
Marcus gritted his teeth and then put a hand out to balance against the door. "Can I come in?"   
  
"Of course, of course- come in, man."   
  
Oliver closed the door behind him before reaching up to Marcus' face. "What happened? Who did this, man?"   
  
His thumb lightly brushed the gash on Flint's cheek, shaking his head. "What the fuck..."   
  
"My dad." Marcus wouldn't meet his eyes, and he wiped at his face with his hand.   
  
Oliver reddened, feeling guilty for asking. "Hey, look... look, I'll help you any way I can."   
  
"I just... can I stay here? For tonight, anyway. He's drunk and I..."   
  
"Stay here. Stay tonight, tomorrow night, as long as you need."   
  
Oliver shook his head and tugged Marcus' hand. "Upstairs, come on. I'll take care of you, alrigh'?"   
  
"You don't have to, I can just crash on the couch again man..."   
  
"Up up up. Now. My mum's a nurse, she has some stuff in the cabinet. Come on."   
  
Marcus nodded and followed him, more subdued and quiet than usual. Oliver hated it. He opened up the cabinet and took out a first aid kit, shaking his head. "Marc, are there any other wounds? Bruises and stuff on you?"   
  
"Uh, ribs." Marcus lifted his shirt up a little, and Oliver would have blushed if it weren't for the huge darkening bruise there.

"Off, off."  
  
Marcus grimaced and pulled the shirt off over his head. His chest was the same tanned colour as his face, and dusted with hair, with a thick pleasure trail leading under his jeans. The bruise went from the top to the bottom of his ribs, mottled black and blue. "Shit, ow."   
  
"Okay, okay, uhm," mumbled Oliver, sitting him down against the bath. He reached up for the shower head and turned on the tap and the water started to pour out into the bath. He shook his head and sighed. "I want you to get cleaned up. Then I'll start fixing you up myself. I- I could clean you up myself but I don't know how er, how comfortable you'd be with that."   
  
"Go ahead." It was like the fight had been knocked out of him, literally.   
  
"Go ahead? I don't know how uh, how appropriate-"   
  
"Just do it, Wood."   
  
Oliver went red and nodded, putting the shower head up. He himself was wearing a grey t-shirt and his tartan pyjama pants. "Right. Jeans off then, I guess."   
  
Marcus nodded and shoved his jeans off, sitting on the side of the bath in nothing but tight boxers. "Thanks, Wood."   
  
Oliver didn't bother taking anything off and climbed into the bath. "Here, stand up."   
  
Marcus did as he was told, letting Oliver start to wash him off. Oliver washed down his chest, rubbing him down quickly, chest hair slicked down against his skin. Marcus winced when the water pressure of the shower head came down on the large bruise, but the warmth of the water felt good.

Neither of them cared about how their clothes stuck to them, Oliver focusing on washing the other boy down and Marcus focusing on how Oliver's hands helped knead a lot of the pain out of him. Marcus groaned appreciatively and then hissed as the water hit his cheek. Oliver washed Marcus's face and hair, slicking his hair back as he cleaned his face. "Sorry..."  
  
"S'fine. Sorry for barging in here like this..."   
  
"No, no, never- _never_ apologise for something like that." Oliver shook his head and turned off the taps, water dripping from the shower head. "Okay, out."   
  
Wood was soaked to the skin in warm water and he stepped out of the bath. He shed his shirt and reached for the first aid kit, opening it up and holding up the disinfectant. Marcus nodded and stepped out, drying himself haphazardly with a towel and wincing. "Fuck, he's such an asshole..."

"Let me," muttered Oliver as he carefully wiped Marcus down. "Yeah, he is. What even happened...?"  
  
Oliver sat Marcus down and started to pad the disinfectant on his cheek.   
  
He whined lowly. "He was just... being a dick, when I said I'd stayed at yours. Said some real bad shit, said he didn't want a faggot for a son."   
  
Oliver furrowed his brow and accidentally pressed down too hard on his cheek. "He called you that for staying over?"   
  
Marcus swore and pulled away. "Fuck, ow, yeah he did. He was drunk, started throwing shit. Didn't like it when I talked back."   
  
Oliver apologised softly and held Marcus still and finished disinfecting his cheek, wetting a cloth under the cold tap and pressing it to his bruised ribs. "What a prick..."   
  
Marcus relaxed a little. "Doesn't matter, I guess. Shouldn't have talked back."   
  
"No, he was being a dick. You're good." Oliver then carefully held the cold towel to Marcus' eye. "Have you eaten today?"   
  
Marcus shook his head. "Man, you don't have to take care of me..."   
  
"Shush, none of that. Grab some clothes from my room, find something that fits, and I'm going to head down to cook something up."   
  
Marcus nodded and then thanked him quietly, walking to find his bedroom.

Oliver's bedroom was neat, well kept, and smelled of fresh-smelling deoderant. Rugby posters and movie posters were taped to the walls, polaroids hung up from a string of lights above his bed. The bed covers were red, as was the rugby jersey slung across the back of Oliver's desk chair. His schoolbag sat next to it and on his bedside table was some sort of notebook, as well as a lamp. The lamp seemed to have broken in the past, haphazardly taped together as it was, but still working.   
  
A pair of reading glasses sat on some school books that were on his dresser, the top drawer slighly pulled out. The sleeve of a soft looking t-shirt hung out of it, and a hoodie was lying in there under it. Marcus grabbed those, and stole some boxers, passing over the briefs he saw, before taking some soft sweatpants and getting dressed.   
  
Oliver was still in his soaked pyjamas and nothing else. He had taken the tupperware tubs of leftovers from last night's lasagna out of the fridge and set upon heating them up in the microwave. He'd made it himself, following his family recipe, and he hoped the taste carried on after reheated.

Marcus stopped at the door, and tossed Oliver some dry clothes. "Smells good..."  
  
Oliver set the microwave and smiled, heading to the next room to get changed and looking through what Marcus had tossed him. He blushed brightly when he saw the silver rim Calvin briefs, and chuckled awkwardly. "Ah- thanks, thank you."   
  
"No problem." Marcus took the plates out when they were done, and set them down. "Did you make this?"   
  
Oliver came back in wearing the oversized shirt and the Calvins, joggers he'd been given in his hands. "Hey. Yeah. Yeah, made it last night. I- I was lonely and bored, so,” he averted Marcus' gaze as he pulled them on, "I tend t-t'get lonely and bored often..."   
  
Marcus looked him over, quick enough to miss. "You like to cook?"   
  
"I do. Yeah. Picked it up."   
  
Oliver sat down. "Listen, mate, do you want to talk about... well, how do you feel now?"   
  
"Cleaner, anyway. You... really helped." Marcus grimaced. "Sorry I missed the match."   
  
"You... it's okay. We would have beat your team anyway, even if you'd been there." Oliver chuckled dryly. "So, he... your dad called you a fag."   
  
"He... yeah."   
  
"Just for staying over? Seems harsh, does he get drunk of-often?"   
  
Marcus blinked, and then stared at him. "You really don't know? I thought everyone knew."   
  
Oliver tried to remember anything he'd heard about Flint, just drawing blank after blank. "No. Wait, when you said trailer trash the other day..."   
  
Marcus laughed, short and bitter. "I live in a trailer, Wood. My mom died when I was younger, my dad's quickly drinking himself to death."   
  
"Shite. I didn't know any of that- I'm sorry. That doesn't sound fun at all."   
  
Marcus shrugged. "It is what it is. That's why I'm not in school so much, I work a lot. You're not laughing at me?"   
  
Oliver shook his head. "Why would I be? Where d'ya work?"   
  
"Mechanic, tutoring, cutting lawns... pretty much whatever people are willing to pay for." He shrugged. "I have to pay for everything myself."   
  
"You tutor?"   
  
Oliver almost laughed, reading the situation as far too serious for that. He just hadn't seen Marcus as too... academically strong. The taller boy nodded. "Just the theory of the practical subjects... I'm not great, but I can tutor the lower years."   
  
"Ah- ah. Okay. Yeah, I work at the deli and uhm, some tutoring of my own on the side."   
  
Marcus nodded and scratched his neck. "Yeah? That's cool."   
  
"Yeah. It's okay. How's the lasagna tasting?"   
  
"It's really good." Marcus seemed happy to eat it, like he hadn't eaten in a while. "Should cook for me more often, man."   
  
"You should stay here more often then, eh?"   
  
Marcus chuckled. "Might take you up on that, Wood. I'm kind of homeless, after all."   
  
"Right." Oliver took a bite of his lasagna, nodding slowly. "Then I guess I'll have to convince my parents to let me keep a homeless boy in my house for a while."   
  
Marcus snorted. "Like a pet?"   
  
"Yep! Like a stray pup."   
  
"You'll stay in my room, okay? I can sleep on the couch. I insist."   
  
"Oliver, I'm not gonna make you sleep on the couch in your own house!"   
  
"I'm making me sleep on the couch in my own house."   
  
"No, you can take the bed and I'll take the couch!"   
  
Oliver scoffed. "You come into my house, eat my food, and ya won't even let me sleep on me own couch? Utter nerve."   
  
"Yeah, yeah, I'm a menace."   
  
"Sleep in my room. Please?"   
  
"Then I'll take the floor, dude."   
  
"Nope. It's way more comfortable, you deserve it..."   
  
"Oliver." Marcus huffed.   
  
"Okay, I'll haul a mattress down from the attic and I'll take the bedroom floor, you take the bed. That work?"   
  
"Fine, fine."

  
Oliver smirked. "Eat up."   
  
* * * * * * * *   
  
_Hey mom!_ _  
_ _Can my friend stay over for the foreseeable future? He was kicked out of his place, it's a deadbeat dad kinda situation_ _  
_ _  
_ _-_ _  
_ _  
_ _Oh! Is he on the rugby team?_ _  
_ _  
_ _-_ _  
_ _  
_ _He's on a rugby team yeah._ _  
_ _  
_ _-_ _  
_ _  
_ _Alright, alright. You'd better be letting him take your room though!_ _  
_ _  
_ _-_ _  
_ _  
_ _Of course mum!!_   
  
* * * * * * * *


	3. Chapter 3

Marcus set his shoulders before unlocking the door of the trailer. He had to collect his things, and he had procrastinated it enough.  
  
"Dad?" His response earned a grunt come from the kitchen. He let out a slow breath and picked up a backpack. "I'm just here to get my stuff."  
  
" _Yer stuff_?" Daniel Flint leaned against the wall, gaze digging into Marcus. He raised a thick eyebrow, crossing his tanned hairy arms. He was in the same dirty jeans and shirt as Marcus had left him in. "None of this is your stuff. I got everything here for you, down to the clothes on your back, boy."

Marcus ignored the filthy man he reluctantly called his father, shoving clothes into the bag.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, bastard."  
  
The boy paused and turned to look at him. Daniel Flint was a scumbag. Why did Marcus almost feel remorseful? "I'm leaving, dad."  
  
"Hmph. And where did you run off to last night?"  
  
"My friend's house." He mumbled it, quietly.  
  
Daniel chuckled and muttered something nasty under his breath.  
  
"What?" Marcus straightened up, towering over him.  
  
Daniel shouldered him slightly, eyeing him. "You look fresh, don't you? Fucking poof. Wearing your _pussy boyfriend's_ clothes now as well as sleeping in his bed?"

Marcus dropped the bag and pushed him back. "Maybe I am, asshole. Better than staying with you."  
  
Daniel chuckled and waved the boy off, dismissing him and in turn infuriating him further. "Now I'm just hoping to _god_ that you're on top at least, huh? I suppose I shouldn't have such high hopes in a pussy like you though. Just like your whore mother, you are."  
  
"Fuck you." Marcus gritted his teeth. "I'm not coming back, you prick."  
  
Daniel gave a shit-eating grin, one that Marcus took shame in saying looked identical to his. "Good. Finally, I'll get some privacy around here."  
  
"Yeah? And who'll pay for food? Electricity? Heating?" Marcus pushed him back again, rougher this time, more careless. "You're _useless_ ."  
  
Daniel socked him in the jaw, making Marcus stagger. He then slapped him harshly across the face, finishing with a swing just as strong to the boy’s nose. "Disrespectful _git_ . You've been a little shit your whole life but this is the fuckin’ limit."  
  
Marcus resisted the urge. He resisted the urge to lash out, to beat his own father senseless. But what would Oliver think? What would Oliver think if Marcus returned to him, blood over torn knuckles, the one who the blood belonged to lying unconscious in a trailer because of him? For some reason, wanting to have Oliver not think of him as rough and tumble _trailer park trash_ aided in calming his nerve. He simply grabbed the bag and turned to go. "Don't come crawling to me, yeah?"  
  
"Not a fucking chance," replied his father. Marcus nodded and then started leaving, slamming the door behind him. He had managed his way down the driveway when the trailer door screeched back open. "Not long and you'll be crawling to _me_ , mate!"  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
_School over yet?_ _  
_ _  
_ _-_ _  
_ _  
_ _Yeah, training just started. You coming?_ _  
_ _  
_ _-_ _  
_ _  
_ _Was gonna swing by the house first._ _  
_ _  
_ _-_ _  
_ _  
_ _Did you get the house keys I left for you?_ _  
_ _  
_ _-_ _  
_ _  
_ _Shit._ _  
_ _  
_ _-_ _  
_   
_Come to the school, take mine, and head home yeah?_

* * * * * * * *


	4. Chapter 4

  
Oliver was dressed in his full rugby gear when Marcus got to the changing room. A few of the Slytherin team had called to him on his way asking if he was going to join them for practice today or any time soon, questions which he blanked on account of his eventful afternoon. The brunette cocked his head at him and held out the house keys for him to take. "Here y'are. If it's _mi casa_ , it's your casa too. Or whatever."   
  
Marcus rolled his eyes and took the keys. "Knew there was a reason you took French, Wood."   
  
"Actually, I only do German."   
  
Oliver frowned. "Mate, is that 'nother bruise there?"   
  
Earlier that day Daniel Flint had clocked his own son in the jaw, leaving a bruise in his wake. "Uh, yeah. It is. Doesn't matter though, I'm fine."   
  
"Did he do that to you, yeah?"   
  
Marcus nodded dully. "He was pretty mad."   
  
Oliver glanced around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping before he sighed. "You're staying with me as long as ya want, okay?" 

"And your parents don't mind?"  
  
"My mum certainly won't."   
  
Marcus cracked an earnest smile. "You're pretty cool, Wood."   
  
"Shut it. Just get back to my gaff safe and settle in, yeah? My parents will be home late tonight, so..."   
  
"Yeah, yeah. Break a leg, dude."   
  
"I'll try."   
  
* * * * * * * *   
  
Marcus had taken it upon himself to set a good example to Oliver's parents that night. Oliver himself was still to come home from training, so Marcus reasoned there must've been something he could do while the boy was out. He reasoned that to make a good impression on the parents, he shouldn't be wearing their son's clothes. He set upon cleaning up a school shirt that hadn't seen an iron in a disgraceful amount of time.   
  
After ironing his shirt he gave himself a clean shave. Besides a few nicks on his jaw, he looked pretty fresh.   
  
Marcus then tidied the mattress in Oliver's room, finding some duvet sheets and making it look as neat as he could.   
  
He hadn't unpacked fully, still unsure of how Oliver's parents would take the presence of the rough homeless kid living with them.   
  
He turned when he heard the front door clicking open. Must have been Oliver getting back. "Oliver? Is that you?"   
  
A grunt came from downstairs as the door was slammed shut. "Yeah man!" Oliver tossed his kit bag down the hall, stretching out. "Bloody exhausted."   
  
"Must be tiring to suck so bad." Marcus laughed as he went down the stairs.   
  
"Must be tiring to... be... tiring." Oliver groaned and dragged himself into the sitting room. "Shut up."   
  
Marcus laughed hard. "Tea?"   
  
"Tea, yeah."   
  
Marcus put the kettle on. "How was practice?"   
  
"Boring, didn't get to kick your sorry arse, did I?"   
  
"As if you could, asshole." Oliver groaned, then snorted. "Wow, what's going on here? You actually look presentable."   
  
"Gotta impress your parents, don't I?"   
  
"Good. _Good_ , yeah. You look, I mean." Oliver fumbled on his words and shook his head. "I mean, _you look good_ ."   
  
Marcus raised an eyebrow and then winked. "Try not to fall in love with me, Wood."   
  
"Oh yeah, and what a catch you are."

Marcus looked offended and put his hands to his hips. "The fuck's that supposed to mean?"

Oliver scoffed. "I was just kidding. Don't take it seriously."

Marcus ended up wondering why he'd taken it so seriously, and why the comment had left a strange _pang_ in his chest. He huffed in reply. "I'd be a great catch, thank you very much."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Where's my tea at, Flint?"

Marcus handed him a mug, before flicking his ear. "So when are your parents going to be here?"

"Around eleven, maybe half past. We've got a while. Did you take care of the bruise?'

Marcus nodded and rubbed his jaw. "Yeah, he's such a fucking dick."  
  
"Glad to see ya taking care of yourself. After my tea I'll go fetch a duvet for the mattress, and clean the room and-"   
  
"I uh..." Marcus blushed slightly. "I already did all of that, so it's fine."   
  
"You what?"   
  
"All that's done, man. I'm not a freeloader."   
  
"I never said you were a freeloader mate."   
  
"Nah, that's not what I..." Marcus shrugged. "Just wanted to help out."   
  
"No, it's okay. Thanks." Oliver smiled. "It's great. I forgot to grab your work from school, though, sorry..."   
  
Marcus shrugged. "That's fine, dude, I wasn't gonna do most of it anyway."   
  
Oliver chuckled. "Sure. I'll spend a little time in the room doing my homework though if that's alright, then I won't have anything due for Monday and we can do whatever we want this weekend."   
  
He was such a nerd and Marcus liked listening to it. Marcus liked listening to anything Oliver said. It was always interesting- always soothing. The man’s voice and chirpy accent were nice to listen to. He was going to like staying at the Woods'.

* * * * * * * *

Daniel Flint was a bastard. He had been raised a thug- raised a dirty rat, raised a fighter. He was a useless asshole who didn’t know the meaning of the word independence. Maura Wood was the opposite. An angel- a queen- a beautifully aged woman with a different skill at each fingertip. She could sew, paint, decorate, garden, and her top skill being that she was a talented chef. And Marcus was eager to steer from the mold of uselessness his family had made for him. He was eager to learn.

Maura had accepted him warmly- Robert Wood not so much, but he was not hostile or rude. Marcus pulled his weight, and Robert appreciates that much at least. And the boy was going to try to start pulling even more.

He stood at the hob in an apron, thick Gryffindor oven mitts covering thick hands. His tanned elbows bumped against the pale ones of Maura, the elder woman humming as she prepped the appliance. “Alright, hon. You’re ready?”

Marcus nodded, edges of his lips curling into a natural unprompted smile. “Yeah. What’re we makin’?”  
  
“Macaroni Casserole. And you’re going to be making it.” She tutted at Marcus’ expression. “The way I teach- you’ll have to get used to it. I’m a tough teacher. Are you sure you’re ready?”

Marcus gulped. “Yeah, ma’am.”

He did out the steps as she gave them. He heated stuff up, put stuff together, mixed all the stuff, tasted the stuff until he learned all the cooking vocabulary he needed to describe everything back to her in detail. She smiled happily at how quickly he’d caught on. He’d burnt his finger, overcooked a part of the casserole, but overall it tasted… _not terrible?_

Oliver got back soon after, whistling happily after his shift at the deli. “M’home!”

Marcus had been in the middle of hugging Maura, arms wrapped around her frail body. She hooted and turned to Oliver. “Oh, dear, your friend made dinner tonight.”

Oliver furrowed his brow and packed away his things under the stairs. “You can cook?”  
  
“Fu-” Marcus glanced at Maura then reconsidered his wording, “Funnily enough, yeah, I can.”   
  
Oliver kicked off his shoes and slid into the kitchen, nabbing a spoon and digging it into the casserole.   
  
“Watch out, it’s-”   
  
“ _Ah!_ ”

“Warned you,” Marcus chastised. “How is it?”  
  
“Aye, it’s divine, but get me a glass’a’water!”

Maura hustled over and filled a glass from the tap, chuckling. “He’s a natural, eh? And I’m so proud, aren’t I?” She messed up the back of Marcus’ hair and he reddened.

It was nice to see Marcus get along so well with his mom.

It was nice to have Marcus there, to have him be a part of the family.

* * * * * * * *

 _Hey honey, guess what Oliver just told me?_   
_-_   
_Was he kicked off the team?_   
_-_   
_No. No, this is serious._   
_-_   
_What?_   
_Nothing's ever more serious when it comes to our Ollie, is he okay?_   
_Did he self harm????_   
_-_   
_Calm down, he's just gay._   
_-_   
_Gay?_   
_-_   
_Yes. Gay. Homosexual, Robert._   
_-_   
_Our Ollie?_   
_Gay?_   
_Wow. Okay._   
_Okay._   
_Tell him I said congrats._   
_-_  
 _Of course love._

* * * * * * * *


	5. Chapter 5

Marcus had settled into the Wood household fairly easily, all things considered. He and Oliver were getting on well, and Mrs. Wood had been determined to make him feel welcome. Oliver's father hadn't shared her enthusiasm, but Marcus wasn't complaining since he hadn't been outwardly antagonistic to him.   
  
It had only been a couple of weeks of their new friendship before Marcus and Oliver had really started to open up to each other, with Marcus encouraging Oliver to tell people about his sexuality. He knew the man hated having to keep it a secret, and he had assured him that no one who loved him would care.   
  
Finally, the opportunity arose when the family had been invited to a family gathering of sorts, and Oliver would be able to tell more people at once.   
  
"I don't think it's a good idea. I mean, my da’s side, they could be against it. They'd be likely to. And I barely know most of my mum's side..." Oliver crossed his arms and shook his head. "Marcus, I dunno."   
  
Marcus shook his head. "Your family loves you, man... your parents didn't react badly."   
  
"Right, but they’re my _parents_ .” Oliver sighed.  "I think I'd rather come up with some excuse and then I'll stay behind with while they head off."   
  
Marcus frowned. "Are you sure? I thought you wanted to go."   
  
"I did, but I... well, now I don't know if I'd be able to think about coming out to them. And I can't do that!"   
  
"Yes, you can!"   
  
Oliver looked flustered, running his hands through his hair again and again until his greasy brown hair was all mussed backward. "Not alone, anyway! I think- I think I'd have to do something like, like bring a date. Y’know, to make them just deal with it?"   
  
"A date?" Marcus raised an eyebrow, curious. "Not a bad idea, actually."   
  
"Yeah. Dunno who I could bring though. Don't know anyone gay really, like."   
  
Marcus was quiet for a second. " _I_ could go with you?"   
  
"You... would?"   
  
"Yeah, man. ‘Sides, I already pretended to be your boyfriend once, so."   
  
Oliver made a face. "That was different, mate. I'd be telling everyone... my parents too, that we were..."   
  
"If it helps, then I want to man," said Marcus with the resolve of a true rugby man.

  
Oliver shrugged. "But you're not gay, you'll probably feel weird."   
  
"Dude, I'm _offering_ ."   
  
And it wasn’t often a straight man offered something like that.   
  
"Wood." Marcus laughed. "It's fine."   
  
Oliver huffed, then gave a courageous smile. "Okay. Okay, then. I'll tell mum you're going."   
  
"As your _boyfriend_ ?"   
  
"Should I? Or- or should I say to her that I'm pretending to date you? I don't want things to get weird here at home, like."   
  
"I don't mind, whatever you want dude."  Marcus wasn't really sure why he didn't care in the slightest, just that he knew that he didn't.   
  
"Okay. I'll tell her the plan, then."   
  
Marcus hummed in agreement. "Sure!"

Whether it was a good idea or not, to begin with, the plans were made and Maura embraced the two boys’ idea. She loved the independence and courage that came with it. Even Robert- uncomfortable as he was- was proud at the strength his son had to do something like that, giving the pair a curt thumbs up.

The weekend was going to be… something.

  
* * * * * * * *   
  
Although Marcus had offered to stay in a nearby motel, taking into account the privacy of the Wood family, Maura simply _insisted on_ putting him and Oliver in the same room, on the same floor as the rest of the family were staying. Two single beds, of course, would suffice to keep everyone pleased, especially Robert.   
  
Marcus still hadn't heard from his deadbeat dad since he'd left him at the trailer, and now look where he was. A four-star hotel room with Oliver _freaking_ Wood.   
  
"So," said Oliver, cross-legged on the bed, "tomorrow morning we have church, as is every Sunday, then we hafta head down to me uncle's big place at the other end of town. He's sorta hosting this thing. Don't know why he couldn't set us up there, though," he finished with a mumble.   
  
Marcus grinned. "I'm really digging the free food, though."   
  
"Mm. And nana makes the best Sunday roast… oh god, you're gonna meet my nan."   
  
All Marcus could imagine was a small weathered old Scottish lady sitting in a rocking chair, telling Oliver off every now and then. "If she's as nice as the rest of your family, I'll be fine, dude."   
  
"She'll _smother you_ . Especially if she thinks you're me fella. Well, if she takes it well to begin with."   
  
"Your parents took it well!"   
  
They had. Robert was quite apprehensive at first, but when he'd gotten home to his nervous son all he did was hug and accept him. It had warmed Marcus' heart to watch. Both parents were aware of the plan to come out to the extended family, and while Maura was excited and all for it, Robert was concerned. Supportive, but concerned.   
  
Oliver chuckled. "Right, right. Can I ask you something?"

The brunette was unpacking his suitcase, tossing clothes to his bed. "Yeah?" Marcus crossed his legs and sat up properly.  
  
"If you were... like if you were actually gay, would you tell your family? Like, you're not, of course, but like... like, I've _butterflies_ mate."   
  
"What family?" Marcus snorted and then shook his head. "I'd tell everyone who mattered, man."   
  
"Really? Cool." Oliver tossed a faded green hoodie at Marcus' face. "One of yours."   
  
Marcus smirked. "Maybe you should wear it, dude."   
  
"Hm?"   
  
"Since we're _dating_ and all? Your family has to believe it."   
  
"Well, they wouldn't... like, we're not actually... you don't have to-!"   
  
"Oliver, I already agreed!"   
  
Oliver huffed. "I don't know. They wouldn't know it's yours... would it even make a difference?"   
  
For some reason, the tanned boy felt a little sad that he didn’t want to share hoodies. "That's fair, I guess. What are we doing, then? You're gonna have to introduce me to people." He blinked and then frowned. "I don't have any nice clothes, man. Will they mind?"   
  
Oliver paused for a moment, then snatched Marcus' hoodie. He then shrugged. "I brought an extra like, butn’up shirt and a jumper for church tomorrow for you to wear. Might be a little tight, but..."   
  
Marcus looked relieved and then chuckled. "I don't want them to hate me, man."   
  
"They won't, I promise. And if they do, I've got your back. I'm gonna wear this hoodie, after all, mate."

It was a size or two too large for Oliver, and it smelled of heavy, masculine deodorant, the opposite to Oliver's own preferred fresh breezy smell. It felt almost comforting. Marcus grinned. "You'll be swimming in it."  
  
"Huh?"   
  
"It's so big on you! They'll definitely know it's not yours." Marcus didn't know why that made him as happy as it did.   
  
"Oh, shush. At least it's comfortable. If you were to wear me own jumper, it'd just..." Oliver thought for a moment about how the fabric would stretch around Marcus' arms, how his shirts would cling to Marcus' abs, outlining his hips and his absolutely perfect- he'd gone bright red. "Did you say something?"   
  
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "You stopped talking, dude."   
  
"Did I? Sorry."   
  
Marcus shrugged. "It's okay. How are we gonna convince them, though?"   
  
"Convince them that we're together?"   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"I mean, why wouldn't they believe it...?"   
  
"I don't know man, we're not exactly affectionate."   
  
Oliver laughed. "If you think we should be affectionate then...'   
  
"I mean it'd be weird if we weren't, right?" Marcus frowned. "I've never properly dated anyone before, so."

Oliver’s eyes went round. "What? Really?"  
  
"Hm? Yeah, dude."   
  
"But you're..." Oliver blushed. "You're... eight...teen...?"   
  
Marcus had been nineteen for five months. He'd repeated his final year of school twice already. "Nineteen." Marcus scratched his neck. "No need to rub it in man. Not exactly relationship material though, am I?"   
  
"No, sorry, I didn't know. What do you mean you're not relationship material? You're being so nice to me and you're not even into blokes."   
  
"Not the same, is it?" Marcus rolled his eyes. "I've slept around, but haven't really had the time for anything else."   
  
Marcus did work a lot, though he had been able to cut down his hours a little now that he wasn't paying for two people. "Right. Fair. I think it's good that you haven't uh, that you're not working as much. You're less tense, way less rough on the pitch eh?"   
  
"Thought you liked it when I roughed you up, Wood. Someone had to show you how to play."   
  
Oliver groaned. "Just shut it. I'm gonna take a shower."   
  
* * * * * * * * 

With church over, Oliver's parents drove the boys to uncle George's place, the large home bustling with family. There were Oliver's cousins, aunts, his grandparents, and a few other distant relatives at the reunion. A few people had asked questions, and Oliver waited until a few hours after church before telling them about his sexuality.  
  
"I'm... I'm gay, uncle George."   
  
George and his wife Patricia were shocked at the news, looking the boy over as if he'd changed right before their eyes. The woman raised an eyebrow. "A new development, Oliver?"   
  
Oliver shook his head. "Er, no. But um, this here," he mumbled, tugging Marcus front and centre, "this here is my... my boyfriend."   
  
Marcus smiled warmly at them and slid an arm around Oliver, tugging him closer. "Pleasure to meet you, I'm Marcus Flint."

He could be charming when he wanted to be.  
  
The couple welcomed him and George held his hand out, receiving a firm handshake from Marcus. The man nodded and smiled, as did Patricia, who received a polite handshake herself.   
  
Oliver blushed a little. "So everything's okay?"   
  
"Of course, lad."   
  
"You alright?" Marcus kept his voice low, ducking his head down.   
  
Oliver wrapped his arm around Marcus' waist, squeezing his side. "Yeah. Probably."   
  
Marcus nodded and greeted some other family members, before dragging Oliver over to the food. Oliver snagged Marcus a plate of food and handed it to him. "Enjoy, honey."   
  
He shot a cocky grin at him and started eating, excusing himself to go to the bathroom after a while. After he was done, he washed his hands, dried them, and reached for the door handle. Behind the door, however, he heard some shrill laughter and the mention of Oliver's name. Whoever it was sounded young, and he chuckled. "Yeah, and I mean, Oliver? Like, he might be a poof or whatever the fuck, I don't care, but he... well, he's not a catch. And he's way too shy to have been the one to lay out the bait, if yaknow what I mean?"   
  
Marcus frowned and leaned closer to listen.   
  
"I mean, they probably met over a game of rugby. Or at study club or that kinda bollocks he gets up to. Fuck knows that's all he's at."   
  
Marcus gritted his teeth and made to walk towards them before he stopped. He couldn't make a scene around Oliver's family. They were standing in the corridor, waiting patiently for the bathroom to be free and trash talking Oliver at the same time. He stepped out, raising an eyebrow at them.

  
The two pasty boys looked at him and paled. One nodded to him and headed into the bathroom, the other awkwardly leaning against the wall. Marcus walked past them, out to where Oliver was waiting. "Hey, man."   
  
Oliver rubbed his arm, smiling. "Hey, here's your foo-"   
  
Marcus leaned in. "We have to kiss, yeah? They're not buying it."   
  
"What? How do you-"   
  
"People were talking about you, man."   
  
"Would ye quit interrupting me? Look, I don't know if-"   
  
Marcus cut him off again as the people from the bathroom returned to the hall. "They'll make fun, dude."   
  
Oliver huffed. "What did I just say about interrupting? I don't think we should... it's just, I don't want to..."   
  
_Start having feelings for you._   
  
Marcus paused and then nodded. "Yeah, I guess."   
  
Oliver gave a glance to the boys and looked up to Marcus. "Them, yeah?"

"Assholes."

The brunette hesitated, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, before- "Okay. They're watching, so... kiss me."  
  
Marcus looked at him. "You sure?"   
  
Oliver tugged him down, trying not to look over at them. "Yeah. Do it."   
  
Marcus nodded, and then he was kissing Oliver Wood. And Oliver Wood was kissing _back_ . His hands drifted to Flint's thick, tanned neck, holding him close. It was amazing. Like fireworks going off, for both of them. Oliver was on the tips of his toes to even reach Marcus properly. Marcus kept him close, kissing him until they heard a wolf whistle from somewhere in the room. Oliver's fingers brushed the shirt collar, hands settling on the hot skin there as they pulled apart. Marcus had flustered a little, and he cleared his throat before stepping away. "Want a drink?"   
  
"What?"   
_  
_ _Back to normal, Wood._   
  
Oliver nodded, slowly. "Yes. Sure. Yeah, please."   
  
Marcus nodded and went to the bar, leaving Oliver to think about what had just happened. He ordered the drinks and wiped his mouth, biting his lip after. What the hell had that been? Oliver had had to sit down, think about it all. He scratched his neck, waiting for Marcus to return. His mind had turned to static. He'd never thought about the Slytherin that way. Never.

And he certainly didn't want to fall for him. Not him. _Anyone_ but him.   
  
Marcus came back with Oliver's favourite, pushing it into his hands before sitting down and turning to watch the party.

  
_Why not him?_ _  
_   
Oliver took a sip, then took Marcus' hand. "Have to keep up appearances, eh?"   
  
Marcus went pink, and nodded awkwardly, holding his hand.   
  
Of course, he feels awkward, he's straight.   
  
Oliver squeezed his hand, and sipped his drink again.

 _Well, he practically made me kiss him. So it's not my fault if he feels awkward about it._ _  
_   
As the night wound down, Marcus ended up pulling Oliver onto the dance floor. "You alright, Wood?"   
  
"Yeah, you?"   
  
Oliver had gotten a little tipsy and Marcus already knew how little the boy could handle his drink. Marcus chuckled and wrapped an arm around him. "Yeah? No passing out on me, right?"   
  
"Wouldn't dream of it..." Oliver grinned lazily up at him, then bit his lip. "Then again, you could carry me back to the room then, eh?"   
  
"Probably could and all." Marcus chuckled and swayed with him to the song.   
  
"Aye... you could. And I'd even let ya."   
  
Marcus snorted, and then moved a hand up to Oliver's shoulder, fingers brushing his neck and making him shiver. The air seemed to leave the room as Marcus stared at him, and then before he knew it the man was kissing him again, holding him close and leaning into it. The music was still going in the background, and Marcus was warm and solid against him.   
  
* * * * * * * *   
  
_Hey. U know Oliver Wood?_ _  
_ _  
_ _-_ _  
_ _  
_ _Yeah man, in the same form as him_ _  
_ _  
_ _-_ _  
_ _  
_ _Thought you might be. Fella's my cousin see. Guess what?_ _  
_ **_sent an image_ ** _  
_ _Rugby captains often snog each other at your school then yeah?_   
  
* * * * * * * *


	6. Chapter 6

He didn't reply, and Oliver didn't see him again until rugby practice the next evening. He looked like  _ shit _ , all tired eyes and scruffy stubble. It seemed as if he hadn't slept well, if at all. Neither of them spoke to one another except through harsh insults, their relationship slipping back to how it was before Marcus had spoken to Oliver at the deli several weeks previously. They argued almost constantly when they spoke, and Marcus hardly even looked at him anymore. He stopped staying at Oliver’s place and didn’t even bother to pick up his stuff, what little there was.    
  
After a week or two, Oliver was at rugby practice when Marcus was starting to act out more than usual. He was clumsy on the field, fumbling for the ball the way he hadn’t done in a long time, and his short temper caused him to give out to multiple members of his own team. At one point, he gave a meaningful glance in Oliver’s direction, to which the brunette blanked him completely. Oliver was frustrated too, for fuck sake, at one point even accidentally whacking a smaller second-year player across the back of his head so hard that his shoddily repaired glasses fell onto the pitch. The Slytherins watched the kid kneel down to grab them, and some even laughed, as the kid wiped the water from the grass away with his shirt. This was a perfect moment, Marcus thought, to get at Oliver, to get under his skin a little.   
  
"Y'alright there, Wood? No need to rough up your own team." Marcus smirked and a couple of Slytherins laughed. “You need all the help you can get.”

Oliver glanced over. He furrowed his brow and scoffed. "Don't, Flint."   
  
"What's got you in a bad mood, then?" Marcus raised an eyebrow and snorted at him.   
  
"Nothing. How about you? Did your boyfriend dump you or summit?"   
  
Marcus snarled and walked forward, grabbing his shirt. "What was that, Wood?"   
  
Oliver grunted and struggled against his grip, bringing his voice to a whisper. "Pissed off you're not able to sleep with me now without the whole school watching, is it?"   
  
Marcus tightened his grip, and Oliver had forgotten how intimidating the man could be. "If you don't shut the fuck up-"   
  
"What? If I don't shut the f-fuck up, what? You'll beat my pretty face in, is that it?" Oliver struggled again, trying to push the bigger man off. Marcus shoved him, dropping him onto the grass. 

"Fuck you, Wood."   
  
Oliver closed his eyes as he fell back into it, his back now soaked in the wet dirt. He tried to prop himself up, only slipping on mud and falling back again. Some Slytherins chuckled, and the younger Gryffindor he'd hit only a few minutes prior offered him a hand up. Oliver nodded as he got to his feet. "Sorry for that, Potter. Okay, everyone," he groaned, addressing his team, "Drills for the rest of practice." He then glared at Marcus when the boy opened his mouth, "I was set in charge of this practice, so before you say anything, yeah, I'm allowed to do that."   


He turned, dirt and mud visible all along his back and the back of his legs, and he shook his head. "I'm heading to change out, lads. Not playing for the rest of the day."

He headed back to the gym as one of the older Gryffindors started delegating what drills to do and such. Marcus followed him to the changing rooms, taking his gloves off and shoving them into his waistband. Oliver had gone to the Gryffindor changing room, and he tugged his top off and threw it against the locker aggressively. "Wood?" 

Marcus sounded tired and rough. "Where the fuck are you going?"

"Wherever the fuck you aren't."

"Oliver-"

"Whatever. Just shut your fat fucking face, yeah?"

Marcus gritted his teeth, and then grabbed Oliver's arm, pulling him closer. "Look- did I hurt you?" 

He hated not talking to Oliver, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from ruining everything. "No. I'm fine,” mumbled Oliver, pulling away.

Marcus didn't know how to fix this, but he needed to do something. So, he leaned forward, trying to kiss him.

Oliver went pink but shoved him back. "No. No, you can't do that to me. Not after yesterday, how you treated me. What the fuck is that? Why did you do that?"   
  
Marcus looked ashamed of himself and itched at his neck. "I... shouldn't have done that. Any of it."   
  
Oliver shook his head. "Just whatever. Also, give me notice if you're gonna leave instead of keeping me up till one in the morning for a week, worried sick with mam, yeah? Like, what do you even want anymore?"   
  
Marcus glanced down to the floor. "I’ve… been sleeping here. I should have told you, I... I'm so sorry Oliver."   
  
Oliver paused and sighed. "Look, it's okay. I'm... glad you're at least keeping safe."   
  
"No, shut up." Marcus scrubbed his hand through his hair. "Don't forgive me yet, I don't. I shouldn't have reacted like that, I shouldn't have done anything that I've been doing since we got back."   
  
The brunette nodded. "I'm glad you're apologising now, yeah. It was shitty. I’ve felt shitty."   
  
Marcus nodded jerkily. "I just... I was already freaking out before we got back, and it pushed me over the edge, man."   
  
"Look, shush, don't freak out... I get what you mean, okay?"   
  
Marcus shook his head. "You don't, you... I..."   
  
"I do, Marcus, I was called gay long before this, man. The only reason I’m surviving is 'cause I suppose... I am gay. And I'm sort of expecting it."   
  
Marcus whined. "But-"   
  
"You can go back to staying at my house, since you’re making it right with me now, yeah?" Oliver wasn’t allowing Marcus to get a word in edgeways.   
  
"Yes, but I'm trying to-" Marcus was blushing, slightly.

"You don't have to move your stuff out, and nothing will be awkward between us alright? We're just friends and we can't be anything more and I get that. You didn't have to be so harsh on me, but-"   
  
Marcus shut him up by dragging him into a bruising kiss. Oliver let him, feeling Marcus' hands on his bare chest. He then quickly brought his hands to Oliver's face, kissing him deeply. Oliver kissed back just as deeply, letting Marcus have his way and moaning into his mouth when he could. Marcus pulled back much too soon and tapped Oliver's jaw. 

" _ This _ is why I was freaking out, Wood."   
  
He kissed him again, a brief brush of lips this time. Oliver looked dazed when he pulled back. "Me?”   
  
"I fucking  _ like you, _ man." Marcus swallowed and shook his head. "I was terrified."

"You like me? But you're-"   
  
"A fucking idiot? Yeah."   
  
Oliver rolled his eyes. "I was going to say straight."

"I was."

"But not anymore?"   
  
Marcus scoffed and brought his hands back down to the sides of Oliver’s ribs."Apparently not!"

Oliver groaned. "Okay. See, I was- I was trying not t'think of you that way on account of you being straight, but I suppose I made a mistake. I like you too, of course I like you.."   
  
"What? You do?"   
  
"Yeah, duh, dipshit."   
  
Marcus laughed and then wiped his face. "We're idiots."   
  
"Absolute sods."   
  
Marcus snorted and kissed him again. "I'm so sorry..."   
  
"Shut up."   
  
Oliver kissed his neck and sighed. "You did still push me into the mud, though."   
  
"You can push me down next time, Wood."   
  
"You know I will. Don't ditch me like that again, alrigh'?"   
  
“I won't. Never." Marcus then backed him up against the wall, grinning, before pausing. "Fuck, dude, we're in the changing rooms."   
  
Oliver nodded and groaned, hands grabbing at Marcus’ waist before squirming out of his grasp. "Yep. Right. I'm gonna change out, shower, head home."   
  
"I'll see you at home will I?"

Marcus nodded, pulling him in for another kiss before leaving him alone. "Seeya, Wood."

*******************************

_ Hey, Ma, Marcus is staying again tonight. _

_ - _

_ That’s great sweetie! I’m glad you guys sorted out your problems. Pick up some milk on the way home? _

_ - _

_ Sure mom, I’ll make Marcus pay for it. _

****************************


End file.
